


congratulations

by Val_Creative



Series: GoT Drabble-Palooza 2019 [19]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, Emotional, F/M, Family Bonding, Gen, Gendry is a Baratheon, Humor, Post-Canon, Post-War, Pregnant Arya Stark, Sexual Content, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: As expected, Bran knows something Arya doesn’t.





	1. (i)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imagineagreatadventure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/gifts).



> IIIIIIIIII HAD TOO MUCH FUN. I WANNA WRITE A MILLION MORE WORDS ABOUT THIS. Requested by imagineagreatadventure (AO3): "Gendrya; bran knows something arya doesn't."
> 
> ((Want a request for GoT? I'm doing 100-500 word drabbles of any ship + any prompt until S8 ends. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a ship and prompt, as well if you want NSFW or SFW. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

 

 

*

Pear wine tastes too sweet and flavorful against Arya's tongue somehow. Give her a proper ale.

She chugs out of a horn, legs dangling and kicking aimlessly over the guest-tables. Her breeches unlaced.

Arya can still feel where Gendry's mouth suckled hot, bruising kiss-marks against her inner thighs and hips. He's a right simpleton. Gendry goes too-slow, mapping Arya's nakedness with hands and lips, worshipping every curve, from nipples to stomach to arse. She could still feel Gendry's seed leaking out of her, and Arya makes sure there's a tiny, folded rag inside her garments.

"You shouldn't drink that," Bran announces, gazing pointedly at her.

They've always shared the grey Stark eyes, but Arya wishes they were more lively than this. (Bran has been through much. He needs time to rest, Jon tells her.)

Arya raises an eyebrow, swallowing a mouthful of cold, strong ale. "Why not?"

"It's not good for the baby."

She spits out the next mouthful loudly, heaving forward between her knees, coughing for air.

The drinking horn goes tumbling onto the unpolished floor. Bran watches expressionlessly in his chair.

"The— _hhrk_ , the wha—?"

"You should start eating turnips," he murmurs, as if trying to be helpful in some way. Arya stares back in complete horror, wiping her sleeve over her gaping mouth. "Mother had an easier time carrying Sansa when she ate turnips. I suppose it's not too late to ask Maester Wolkin for moon tea. I would have liked to have met her though."

Arya gulps.

" _Her_?"

"Catelyn." Bran's eyes slow-blink. His thin features easing into fondness. "Catelyn Snow. She can be a Stark or Baratheon if the Queen legitimatises her and Gendry—"

"Bleedin' hells," Arya curses, shutting her eyes, rubbing the heels of her grimy hands over her temples.

 _All_ seven of the hells.

*

 


	2. (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bran reveals what Arya didn’t know at first, she tries to think of how to tell Gendry they have a daughter on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL ASKED FOR MORE! YOU GOT MORE! I'm willing to do more chapters to this and post this weekend, but I wanna hear you guys tell me you want it. You are all my biggest motivator for this. Tell me in a comment. I am so excited to know what you think.
> 
> This was requested by damn near everyone on FFN and AO3 but more specifically: horntailblue (AO3), ilikethis (AO3), AngelBells (AO3), Kelly (AO3), babycakesbriauna (AO3), TheSeekerofLife (AO3), LadyKlarolineBethylLightwood (FFN), Guest (AO3), AnonyomusPseudonymous (FFN), msninabonita4 (AO3), Luiza Moura (FFN), Raiza-chan (FFN) and a big shoutout to themirrorminder.372259 (FFN) for giving me specific prompts for this. I was gonna go a different direction but I love this more.

 

 

*

The aftertaste of pear wine clings onto Arya's tongue. She nips down instinctively.

Sweltering, smoking heat billows from the forge, and Gendry walks into another section, finishing up the repairs on different helms, smearing the ash on his forehead with his wrist. She emerges from the darkness as he tugs off his ruined smock, cracking his neck.

"Where've you been?"

"Visiting Bran," Arya drawls, resting a hand to Needle's pommel. Her voice flat. "Why's that your concern?"

That's the wrong way to go about it, she realises too late.

Gendry bristles after a silent moment, his face twisting up. " _Suppose it's not_ —" he's interrupted by Arya swooping in, her mouth sealing over his, groaning and opening himself to a deeper, frantic kiss. Gendry's hands slide up her waist, feeling the ridges of her leather-jerkin and Arya's slim form. She groans with him, pawing Gendry's back, leaning towards Gendry mouthing over her jaw and neck, suckling lightly.

Two of the guards eye her.

He must have noticed, because Gendry huffs and leads her back towards the front-entrance.

"Out in the open like that, Arry?" he pants. The coldwater-blue of his eyes slit away to black. Arya remembers that best the first time Gendry had been inside her.

"We weren't going to remain a secret for long."

"Who else knows?"

"Bran." Arya makes a low, aggravated noise, rubbing her nose. "Bran knows everything there is to know."

"What is it? Something's wrong."

"How do you think…" she trails off, glimpsing the dubious look, "You're a _stupid_ bullheaded boy, that's what's wrong." Despite the insult, Gendry laughs and embraces her, Arya's head nudging to his chest. She braces herself for the inevitable. "Bran said we were having a daughter…"

Gendry's first thought is to scoff. "That's not… you're not pregnant."

"How would you know?"

"… … _you're serious_ …" Arya thinks it's like staring at a wayn fall apart under increasing pressure. Gendry runs his fingers over his cheeks, wide-eyed. "Hells… did you go to the maesters?"

"You don't seem happy."

"Neither do you."

"My list isn't done," she explains, frowning. "Cersei's not dead. The Mountain's not dead."

"Why does it matter?"

"Gendry, you know _why_ I say the words—"

"Aye," Gendry says, furrowing his brows. "I heard you muttering your gods-damned list, night after night, for over a year. I probably started reciting it too in my sleep." He hasn't let her go, gripping her sides, but Arya doesn't want him to. She wants him to _understand_. "Now there's something you can live for. Besides killing folk."

"I'm not letting anything stand in the way," Arya declares, emptying herself of any more self-doubt.

"Arya, please, I am asking you…" Gendry's warm, strong hands relocate to her face, cradling her, keeping their eyes locked. "Think about it. Think about her if she's real," he whispers. Arya nods, clasping over and thumbing Gendry's bare wrists.

" _I am_ ," she insists, soft and harsh together. "A world with Cersei Lannister in it… isn't a world worthy of my blood."

*

 


	3. (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it concerns Arya, Sansa takes no prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL HERE WE GO. NOW WE ARE GETTING REACTIONS FROM OTHER CHARACTERS. A big shoutout to Josephine_in_Mirkwood, Weird_Girl_Here, Ducks46Death, The_Bisexual_From_Hell, Katlyn1948, horntailblue, TheSeekerofLife, yingyanggirl, Reninrina, ilikethis, lyrawhite, Dancey regan, msninabonita4, Jade598, Blackbird_MV, Ti, notyourmother for commenting on the last installment! You guys are the best! I'm debating on how many more chapters to do or if I should wrap it up soon so guys let me know your thoughts! I hope you are having a good time reading! :)

 

 

*

"Lady Sansa."

Gendry stiffly bows, wondering why he had been summoned in the dead of the night. She asks quietly if Gendry wants any strongwine. It does help him sleep, but after the midday fight with Arya, he's too restless.

"You and my sister…" Sansa's blue eyes start to narrow. Gendry swallows hard. "What makes you believe you are worthy of her?"

Somehow still, he's not expecting the hostility.

"Forgive me, milady—"

"I wasn't aware you've wronged me," she interrupts softly, pacing the room. Her dark skirts whirling. Sansa's voice like a blade of ice. "Tell me, Gendry… do you think a bastard is worthy of a highborn woman? What could you provide for Arya that a man from one of the northern Houses couldn't?" Disappointment manifests over Sansa's face. "… Are you going to say anything at all?"

Gendry can only hear his blood pounding. Before she can dismiss him, he lifts his head, glaring.

"Arya doesn't care that I'm a bastard. She never cared." Fury makes him forget himself in the presence of a lady, and Gendry would rather be publicly flogged for his impertinence than listen to more of this _shite_. "She told me she wanted to be my family. I turned her away. I'll regret that until my dying day," Gendry declares, scowling and trembling. "I love her. I would die for her."

"Would you?"

"I went North with Jon Snow because of her, milady. Because he was Arya's kin. I thought she died at the Red Wedding along with her mother and Robb Stark. I needed to honor her memory and protect her one living brother."

"Arya doesn't trust easily," Sansa tells him, and while consumed by his passionate outrage, Gendry doesn't see her little, wistful smile.

"She may even be pushing you away and you wouldn't know it. My sister and I both understand what it means to let someone in and to be utterly betrayed. Or to lose what we love." She approaches him. "I trust you understand that as well."

"I do," Gendry mumbles.

Even while towering over her, he wilts under Sansa's gaze. The sharpness clears into amusement. "Good," she says, smiling sweetly, clasping his arms. "You shouldn't wait too long—there will be preparations needed. Including for a feast."

"… _milady_?"

Gendry feels oddly lightheaded, staring baffled, as she prattles on, "Speak with Arya about it. I know she doesn't like _tradition_ , but the marriage ceremony should be in the Winterfell's godswood. And, of course, I'll need your measurements." Sansa's hands grip tighter on him. "Gendry, take a breath. I don't need you fainting and blocking my only way out of my chambers."

" _S'rry_ ," Gendry replies, blinking rapidly. He shakes his head. " _I don't_ …"

"You're a good man. Be a good father to Arya's children as well."

That's when it hits him. She _knew_. She must have overheard them. Gendry makes a thwarted, croaking sound, rubbing his eyelids as Sansa giggles, pleased with the affirmation of Gendry's loyalty, and hugs him.

_Starks._

*

 


	4. (iv)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They imagine a girl with Arya’s skinny, knobby knees and brown hair. The coldwater blue of Gendry’s eyes. It’s a good life ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL OKAY it's being decided that I'm wrapping this up because if I planned on doing a full length fic originally, I would have started it that way. I don't think I can properly tell this story the way it deserves in this drabble format and it wouldn't make sense to change it/separate it from the collection now. I'm really glad that so many people wanted more and left me these wonderful comments/encouragement and I appreciate the hell out of you. ILY. Thank you for taking this journey with me, even if it was short, and CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR THAT GENDRYA ACTION TONIGHT. SO EXCITED. -blows kisses-

 

 

*

_If you raise a hand to my sister…_

Jon isn't his younger sisters or brother. He does not bother to hide his misgivings. Gendry stares ahead, dutifully bowing his head when Jon faces him, leaning in. Tully eyes, Stark eyes… he's doomed to be scrutinised as an outsider.

_If I hear of you betraying her or this child…_

Snow drifts over the ravencote, as the many, dark-winged beasts caw and fly above. He resists a shiver under Jon's warning.

_You won't need to concern yourself with what Arya will do… I'll kill you first…_

*

The masters say Arya is healthy and very early. No-one has to know Catelyn Stark was conceived before their vows.

(Or would their daughter be a Baratheon? Or _both_?)

Arya doesn't wish to overthink it. Not before even seeing the slightest curve to her belly.

She scolds Jon being overly protective and intimidating Gendry. Jon does apologise. She dodges a lively Sansa's questions about arranging a marriage feast. _Marriage_. Arya hasn't seen Winterfell in such high spirits since King Robert's arrival. There's talk of lamb being served on plates and roasted in herbs and garlic, racks of suckling pig and trout baked in claw. Caskets of good Dornish wine.

They can have their feast.

All she really wants is _this_ — a quiet eve, without weapons or fear, surrounded by the heat of Gendry's arms.

His black hair glints in the taperlight. Arya observes in silence, naked and loose-limbed, as he kneels to her, running his strong hands over her ribs and hips. Gendry's mouth presses light, feathery kisses over stomach-scars. They've had time to think it over. Arya decides that whenever it happens — Cersei Lannister and the Mountain will die. And she'll be there to witness it.

"We could still run away, y'know…"

Gendry's laughter rumbles over her pale skin. One of his hands trailing over Arya's buttocks, up her spine comfortingly.

" _That might be nice_ …" he mumbles, humoring a faint smack on his head. Gendry's thumb and forefinger brushes over Arya's navel, almost shyly, and she inhales, pressing her hand over his. Tugging him on his feet. Feeling every hardened, muscular line of his body. Gendry's cock stirring against her thigh. She kisses him, sure and steady, with turnips on her breath.

They imagine a girl with Arya's skinny, knobby knees and brown hair. The coldwater blue of Gendry's eyes.

It's a good life ahead.

*

 


End file.
